Dufflebag
by Malluchan
Summary: The dufflebag was worn and had holes in it. He would leave for the train station, and then he would stand there and argue with Benkei, and then go home and unpack the bag and hang his ticket on the wall. Just like every time. He simply could not leave. He had to, but he couldn't. Because of Benkei. What's the price of having someone depend on you? Someday, he would go.


Guys, I need...I need, I need, I need to, I don't know what I need. Stuff...happened, and stuff just sort of, well, happened. And that's a lot of commas but whatevs. Well I need to do something. And I think I need to write a fic about Benkei and Kyouya and friendship and dependency and all that angsty bumblebees, so have fun K? Sorry if it's really really bad or anything I just, I need, I need to, I don't know, RELEASE. Send it to the wind o_O

Because NELLABEAN IS BACK AND I JUST AJFASLKDJALSKDHLKSAJFHAOSFALSKDJALDJSNLAWKJEOWLFHNKSLAFNALKSN AND excuse me for a sec *dies silent and alone because of wait no I'm not alone my friend just texted me* and I need to

Well

Read the story, and, uh, disregard this note OK? Nekohachi roughly translates to 'Catbee' in Japanese btw. This story is set about 2 years after Metal Fury.

* * *

The back of a dufflebag. Very nice, actually. The dufflebag, not the view.

It was worn. Kyouya had had it for a long time. Green and battered and worn to holes in places. The dufflebag was very loved. It had held many, many things, and been many places. It had seen the world go by in a flash of colours, viewing it through train windows and plane windows and the windows of cars that Kyouya had hitchhiked in. He had a list of every licence plate of every car he had ever ridden in. And it was in that very dufflebag.

Benkei stared at the dufflebag because he could not look at Kyouya.

Nekohachi's rumpled and sleepy head peeked out of the bag and he meowed at Benkei lazily. Nekohachi was going to Tokyo with Kyouya. Benkei was not.

It was unfair. After all, Kyouya had had Nekohachi for all of two years, and Benkei ever since he came to Metal City, seven years ago. Benkei had known him for much longer than Nekohachi had. Benkei could talk; Nekohachi could not. Besides, if not for Benkei, Kyouya would never have gotten Nekohachi in the first place; he had gotten him from Benkei for his birthday.

But no. Kyouya had chosen to take the cat to Tokyo with him instead of Benkei.

Nekohachi pawed at Kyouya's shoulder, eager to get going. The train platform waited up ahead. It smelled like spring and fresh mochi.

Benkei had asked, over and over again, why Kyouya could not take him to Tokyo as well. Kyouya said he had had enough of being anchored to Benkei. That Benkei was dragging him down when he needed to drift for awhile. Every word hurt, but Kyouya knew best; if Benkei's character was not free enough, Benkei would change.

It wasn't enough for Kyouya. No, Benkei, you're not going, he said. And that was pretty much the end of it. To Benkei, though, it wasn't the end. He was going to buy a train ticket and go with Kyouya. He was going to go with him whether he liked it or not. Kyouya could not stop him from buying a ticket. Kyouya could not stop Benkei from following him. And probably, when they got to Tokyo, Kyouya would be angry. But eventually he would see. He always did.

He turned his back, time and time again, and told Benkei that he had had enough. That it was time to stop being Kyouya and Benkei and start being Kyouya. And Benkei, who was not connected to him.

Kyouya didn't understand.

Kyouya trusted Nekohachi more than he did Benkei.

Benkei couldn't say goodbye again. All those times they had stood on this very platform - all the times Kyouya said he was leaving and then came back again - they still hurt. Even though Kyouya had always come back. Benkei knew there would be a time when Kyouya would walk straight ahead onto the train and not look back.

Not walk back.

Then where would Benkei be? He could pay the rent on his own, he could beyblade on his own, but without Kyouya there...what was the point?

Very, very solemnly, Benkei walked up to the ticket counter and bought himself a ticket. If this was the time that Kyouya got on the train, Benkei would go with him.

The ticket man handed it to him. "Maybe this time you'll get to where you're going", he said. Benkei guessed he saw the two of them as people who never had the courage to finish the journey. Benkei guessed it was his fault; he never let Kyouya go anywhere.

This time, he decided, they would get on the train. Both of them. Kyouya would go where he wanted to go and be what he wanted to be, but...with Benkei. Like always.

Like always, Benkei walked him across the platform and Kyouya gave him a stern look.

"Don't you dare cry, do you hear me? Don't you dare. Because if you cry, it just proves how big of a wuss you are. It just proves my point. Let me be wrong just this once."

"I'm not crying, Kyouya-san."

"That's right. You better not be. Have a good life."

That was his Kyouya. No jazz, no ribbons. The facts were the facts. Benkei would have a good life, because he was going too.

"Okay, Kyouya. I will."

Kyouya stepped on the train. Benkei did too.

"Wait, Benkei, you can't come! I told you, I can't be anchored anymore."

"I won't anchor you, Kyouya. I swear. I'll just be where you are at the same time."

Kyouya sighed. "Benkei, that's enough. Go home." He pointed commandingly towards their apartment.

Benkei blinked. "I have a ticket. I bought one. I want to come with you."

"You are a grown man", Kyouya said. "You don't need me. Go home now, OK?"

"I can't. I can't. I need you to help me get stronger. You're the strongest."

Kyouya watched Benkei. He sighed. How could a twenty-year-old be so dependent on a younger man?

"Okay, Benkei", he said finally. "Let's go home."

He turned and walked back towards the apartment. He would unpack his dufflebag, he would put Nekohachi in the yard, he would ignore Benkei for a bit, and go out at night by himself like he always did. And then things would be back to normal. And next time, his mind insisted, he would leave for real. He would leave everything behind and start over.

Just like all the times before.

And he would put his train ticket on the corkboard in his room with all the other ones. Fifteen. This was the fifteenth.

Someday, he would go.


End file.
